


Castles in the Sea

by hangrybluewhale



Series: Echoes of My Past [3]
Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Body Horror, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangrybluewhale/pseuds/hangrybluewhale
Summary: Malcolm Fade reflects on the similarities between Livia Blackthorn and his Annabel.





	Castles in the Sea

She really did look like Annabel when she was younger. All the Blackthorns had those famous blue-green eyes, clear as tourmaline. He'd always loved looking into Annabel's eyes, their expressiveness, the way she’d seemed to look, right into his heart, and loved him for who he was. 

 

But with Livia... it had been like looking at Annabel in their youth, brought to life.

Oh, she had a sister. Drusilla. But other than the colour of her eyes and hair, Malcolm did not see much similarity between Drusilla and Annabel. 

To put it bluntly, Drusilla had been much too fat. 

Livia was thin, almost coltish, with spindly arms and legs. Malcolm had teased Annabel when they were growing up, saying that she was too gangly to have the fluid grace of a Shadowhunter. She had scowled at him then, but when her father sternly told him that he was not to speak to a “Shadowhunter, better born than a mere warlock” with such disrespect, Annabel had spoken against her father, standing up for her friend. 

“He was only teasing me, Father. Malcolm is the best friend I have, more so than all the other Shadowhunters I know,” she said, face flushed. 

He had not realised it then, but now, looking back, he realised that had fallen for her long before that moment. 

 

He knew that most warlocks could not have children, save perhaps Tessa Gray. But he did not want to think about Tessa, not when she had aided the others, aided  _ Shadowhunters  _ in lying to and betraying him and Annabel. 

Sometimes he looked at Livia and saw a daughter he and Annabel could never have. At other times, he looked at Livia, and wondered, if Annabel had lived and left him for a Shadowhunter, and given birth to a daughter, she would have looked like Livia. 

He hated Livia in those moments, for causing him to question his love for Annabel, and hers for his. 

 

It had been too long ago. The sound of Annabel’s voice was a distant memory he kept reaching for yet could not quite grasp. 

 

He had been so close. Damn, damnably close. 

Pain, then the sharp scent of blood.

He looked down, blind in darkness, felt a demon’s tentacle wrap tight around his leg, pointed teeth protruding from the suckers that lined the limbs and body of the Makara demon. Annabel’s body floated somewhere in the inky black shadows beneath him, drifting aimlessly. For all he knew another Makara demon had already found her and was ripping her to shreds... 

 

_ No.  _ Malcolm would not let that happen. He would bring her back, he had to! 

 

A strong blast of purple fire shot at the demon with its tentacles around him, which he followed up with a summoning spell, pulling Annabel’s body towards him. The demon recoiled, long tentacles unfurling, hungry mouths wide, almost as though it were dismayed. Malcolm dragged them towards the surface, until the waters were clearer, and he could see his Annabel. 

 

Her eyes were open... and staring. Blackthorn blue, the colour of the ocean in sunlight, though the waters around them were a few shades darker. He felt a spark of joy in his heart. Though his spells with the Hands of Glory had been interrupted, the whole incident was not entirely a waste of time.  

 

He closed his eyes, concentrating. A bubble formed around them, its surface a shade of pale violet, shimmering with iridescence. 

“Annabel,” he said as he held her body, skin and rotting flesh barely clinging onto her bones. Her eyes were bright, alive as they darted over his features, taking him in; incongruous in that skeletal face. They were the exact shade as he remembered. 

 

“Annabel, Annabel. My love, darling...” He raised a hand, brushing at the brittle clumps of hair at the side of her face. “Can you hear me? Can you speak to me?” 

She continued looking at him, but she said nothing. 

_The magic must have been corrupted,_ Malcolm realised.

It did not matter, he decided. He felt something that might have been hope blossom in his chest. He would find a way to truly bring her back. He still had the Black Volume of the Dead. 

 

After he did... they had time. All the time in the world, time that would more than make up for the lifetimes they could have had together, but had been snatched away from them. 

 

They would go back to his cottage together, and build a life together. The one that they had both been denied after her death. She would paint and sketch, and he would write and come up with odd, amusing stories for her. 

 

Malcolm held her tighter, ignoring the bloodied mess the demon had made of his leg. 

How could it matter? His Annabel would return to him soon. 

 

He could hardly stand the wait. 

 


End file.
